Full House
by Eclipse89
Summary: As Vegeta struggles with the challenges of fatherhood, a mysterious, new foe emerges theatening entire universes and timelines. This time, it's up to the Prince of All Saiyans to save the universe and his family. Will Vegeta prevail and surpass Goku? More importantly, will be become the best father in the world? Takes place in the middle of Dragonball Super.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Dragon Ball belongs to Akira Toriyama

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Timeline: The main story takes place somewhere around the events of Dragonball Super.

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Prologue

Bulma pulled herself up, feeling pain and shame spread through her beaten body like a disease. Pale light coming from the lamps on the compound seeped through the barred window inside her cell, illuminating the concrete room. It shed its faint glow on her scarred skin with fresh bruises marring it. Her long, blue hair was tangled and hung in lumps covering her face like a veil. She felt like weeping, but the tears refused to flow out of her eyes for years now. So much sorrow and torture must have taken a greater toll on her than she thought.

She stirred, struggling to sit on a thin, stained mattress that occupied the central position in the room. Bulma grabbed what was left of her clothing and tried to cover her naked chest with it. She raised her chin and peeked from behind a curtain of her messy hair at her tormentor.

He stood by the window with his back proudly straightened, looking out the window. Like Bulma, he was nude, but he didn't seem bothered by it. She watched his muscled back as the sensation of dread stirred inside of her heart. When she was young and foolish, Bulma would find his battle hardened, chiseled body attractive, but now it just scared her to death. Every curve, every muscle reminded her that the monster before her eyes was a fighting machine.

The man turned away from the mirror and pulled his pants on. "Your tits are sagging," he commented sourly, not even gracing Bulma with a single glance.

Bulma bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling uncontrollably. She clenched her palm into a fist. "You've promised you'll let me see my son."

"You mean my training meat sack?" The monster looked at her over his shoulder, a mocking smirk playing on his disgusting lips. "I'll allow you to see the bastard. Know my kindness, whore."

She flinched upon the insult, but didn't retort. Instead, she bowed lowly, touching her forehead to the cold, concrete floor of her cell. "Thank you!"

Hastily, Bulma put her torn dress over her head scrambled off the floor. Her knees wobbled so much that she had to lean on the wall for support. A pained whimper escaped her throat, but she stifled it, not wanting to annoy the monster. Like a puppy, she trailed after him as he let her out of her prison and lead her down the hall. With every step she took, her body contracted from ache. The inside of her thighs pulsated with pain, bruised so much that the flesh was green.

Bulma bit the inside of her cheek and focused on her surroundings instead. However, that hurt way worse than her manhandled body. She staggered down a corridor where she would run about as a child. This place used to be her home and now. . . Now, it was nothing more than a prison, very literally so.

From behind the rows of closed doors, she heard muffled noises and voices. Loud crashing sounds were coming from her right; Bulma's mother was having another fit of rage. She was in this state, balancing on the edge of insanity, ever since her husband got murdered. The unpleasant whizz of the electricity accompanied by the stench of burnt hair was Yamcha, pounding against the force field. Bulma heard sorrowful female voice, singing in a hoarse voice. That's how Chichi mourned the loss of her boys, chanting lullabies every day, in the every waking hour. With her body trapped in this nightmarish world, she retreated to safe haven of her own mind.

Bulma didn't have that luxury. She had a reason to live, to survive despite what was happening to her. Bulma held her breath when the monster opened the door at the end of the corridor, the entrance to what used to be Briefs family vault.

The hinges creaked open and the stench of stale air hit her nostrils, making her feel nauseous. It stank of sweat and blood. The light coming from the corridor invaded the vault, creeping into the every corner of the reinforced room, revealing its dreadful purpose.

Inside, a young man sat with his back propped against the steel wall. His long, purple hair was greasy and dirty, with clumps of his own, dried blood in the strands. His limbs and neck were chained to the wall, but these safety measures weren't necessary. He was in no shape to walk out of the vault on his own legs even if the door was wide open. Blood was pooling around his body, his limbs were crushed and broken. If not for the strained, wheezing breathing sounds, Bulma would have thought he were dead.

"Trunks!" she exclaimed desperately. Momentarily, she forgot about her own pain and dashed out to her son's side. She fell to her knees and leaned over her boy, staring at his gruesome injuries in horror. "What has he done to you?"

Trunks grunted. Slowly, he raised his head, looking up at Bulma in confusion. He was so pale. . . A violent fit of cough shook his broken body, and a streamlet of blood leaked out of the corner of his mouth. Weakly, he whispered, "Mom. Is that really you?"

"Yes, my child, I'm here." Bulma squeezed her son's palm gently. With her free hand, she delicately brushed Trunks' purple hair off his forehead and smiled at him reassuringly. "Everything will be alright, just hang in there. This nightmare will end eventually."

Right outside Trunks' cell, the monster was tapping with his foot. The corners of his lips turned downward at the display of motherly affection. "Time's up!" he yelled in his gruff voice. "Back to work, whore," he said to Bulma.

Suddenly, Trunks got more lively. "Don't call my mother that, you monster!" Even though he barely breathed, he started getting up.

"Trunks!" Bulma put her hand on her son's shoulder and pressed him down, forcing him to remain seated on the floor. She looked at him and silently shook her head.

The monster chuckled. "Oh? You still have some life in you, boy? I'll have to correct that later." He clenched his hand into a fist, his knuckles crunching.

Bulma swallowed a lump in her throat, feeling dryness in her mouth. "Please, don't hurt my son anymore, I beg you," she whined.

The scowl on the monster's face deepened, turning into a grimace of unadulterated contempt. "Scrape your sorry self off the floor, whore. Get your ass back to work. If you don't finish before dawn, I'll start tearing limbs off your precious bastard."

"The machine will be done!" Bulma exclaimed quickly, fearing for her son's life. She gazed at her beaten boy and it was as though her heart was being torn to shreds. She felt his fingers close around her hand, refusing to let her go. _Trunks, please endure a while longer_ , Bulma thought and stood up. Her palm slid out of her son's grasp and she left him alone again, at the mercy of the monster.

Like in a daze, Bulma dragged herself to the place where she slaved away her days, her laboratory. The large hangar wasn't guarded at all and she could move about freely, but she knew what would happen if she ever dared to set her foot outside the lab. The monster had made that clear; he would wipe out her friends and murder Trunks.

Bulma gritted her teeth and walked up to the center of the hangar, where her greatest creation rested. A purple capsule resting on a tripod, capable of fitting one passenger. She had based its design and the propulsion on the saiyan pods, with numerous improvements and modifications. A fully operational machine would be able to travel through a galaxy in a heartbeat, faster than any spaceship existing in the universe.

She fastened the last screw with her wrench and wiped the sweat off her forehead. Smiling slightly, she took a few steps back and admired her invention. "It's ready," she said to the monster, who today, exceptionally, was watching her work.

He grunted and strolled up to the machine. Tracing his hand over the hull, he glanced at Bulma over his shoulder. "So, will it take me to other universes?"

Bulma nodded. "Like I said, the dimension warp device will open a wormhole leading straight to the next universe, folding space and time. The vehicle will travel through this tunnel and land within minutes."

The monster grinned. "Splendid. This barren universe became so boring ever since I squeezed the life out of that cat and the blue moron. I'm itching for a challenge." He flexed his muscles, his howling, vile laughter echoing across the hangar.

 _He looks hyped_ , Bulma noticed _. I haven't seen him this excited in years_. She smiled slightly and said, "Surely, you'll find a worthy opponent in one of the universes. Please, the machine is all yours." Bulma waved at the purple vehicle and took several steps back, retreating toward the exit out of the lab.

The monster stopped laughing and turned around, looking at her directly. Bulma froze, struggling to relax her tense muscles. She caught herself on holding the air in, so she exhaled slowly.

"I wonder. . ." the monster muttered. He furrowed his brows and glanced at the machine suspiciously. "I wonder if it won't explode the moment I land in another universe, stranding me there forever."

Bulma flinched, feeling adrenaline pumping into her blood. "I wouldn't dare. . ."

"Really?" He interrupted her. "To me, it sounds exactly like something you'd do, deceiving me and placing an intentional design flaw in the machine. After all, you'd do everything to save your precious bastard and what's left of your friends."

"I swear the machine is fully operational and safe," Bulma promised, hoping he wouldn't catch the tiny moment of hesitation in her voice.

"We'll see about that." The monster walked past her and headed for the exit out of the lab.

Bulma knitted her eyebrows together, confused by his actions. She traced him with her eyes _. He's not boarding the machine right away? But he was so impatient for me to finish it!_ Bulma wriggled her fingers nervously, waiting for the monster to return. Her hands got clammy from the cold sweat, she could hear her heartbeat pounding as though the blood pressure was about to burst her veins from the inside. The spacious hangar was silent, only with her labored breathing audible.

Then, the door to the laboratory swung open violently, flying off the hinges. It flew past Bulma, the draft ruffling her blue hair, and slammed into the reinforced wall of the laboratory. The monster strolled in, cocky as always. With one hand, he hauled a beaten youth, treating him like a piece of luggage.

"Trunks!" Bulma cried out, reaching out with her hands to her son. Helplessly, she watched the monster leap into the air and unceremoniously toss her boy into the cockpit of the machine. "What are you planning to do with him?"

The monster grinned, showing his teeth. "I'm taking him along for the ride, of course. If the machine is just as safe as you claim, it won't be any problem." He turned his back on Bulma and was about to board the machine.

Bulma clenched her teeth so forcefully that her jaw muscles started to hurt. She help her hand in the pocket of her lab coat, clenching her fingers around a small object. "Wait!" Bulma took it out of the pocket and lifted it for the monster to see. "I remembered I forgot to install a different theta waves converter."

"Of course you did," he murmured in a deadpan voice.

Bulma glared at him. _Damn it! Why does he have to be so sharp? My intricate plan just went down the drain!_ Shaking from frustration, Bulma undid the screws to one of the panel and started installing the converter, hooking it to the rest of the machinery. _Years of planning, enduring this nightmare and I failed!_ Angrily, she slammed the panel back on and started fastening the screws back on. She stole a glance at the monster who watched her like a hawk. _Just wait, asshole_ , she thought. _I'm a genius, for crying out loud! I'll find a way to put you down for good and save my loved ones. I promise you that._

"There, all done." Bulma slid her wrench back into the pocket of her coat and patted the machine.

The monster nodded and seated himself inside the cockpit. "Good. Get in and show me how to operate the machine."

Bulma climbed up a ladder and slid inside the small space, wriggling herself between the monster and her unconscious son. She licked her dry lips and forcefully turned her head away from Trunks; the sight of her wounded child would distract her too much. What counted the most now was to keep him and herself alive. Bulma flipped three switches closest to her right hand. "I'm starting the engine and initiating the dimensional dampeners. Closing the lid," she said and was about to press the button sealing the cockpit when the monster grabbed her wrist.

"Just a second." He smirked, a ball of energy building atop his palm. "I want to give your friends a farewell gift."

"What?" Bulma gasped.

She had barely time to blink when he tossed the ball of ki forth, into the hangar. Her palm reacted instinctively when she slammed the button closing the cockpit's lid and engaging the vertical thrusters. The machine darted upward, the g-force slamming Bulma into the seat. It shot through the hangar's roof like a bullet, making a hole, and lost the velocity. The vehicle hovered over the Capsule Corp compound.

The fiery orange blast reflected in Bulma's blue eyes. The ball of fire expanded, swallowing her lab and the entire building, sweeping over the West City. "No!" Bulma cried out. _Chichi, Yamcha, Krillin. . . They were all down there, incinerated in an instant_. Shocked by the sight of apocalypse, she glared at the monster who was chuckling darkly. "Why did you do that? The people of Earth were no threat to you!"

"True, they weren't," he said, a note of amusement ringing in his coarse voice.

Bulma stifled a curse and slammed her fist into the button engaging the inter-dimensional warp drive. Suddenly, the air swirled, sparking as a rip in space opened. The machine jerked and dove into it. "You're a monster," she muttered hatefully.

"Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?" he leaned back, lazily looking at the multitude of fantastic colors flashing outside the vehicle.

The lightshow lasted only about five minutes. Quite abruptly, the machine reached the end of the wormhole and got coughed out into a clear, blue sky. Bulma yelped when the vehicle started spinning about as it made a corkscrew fall toward the ground. She grabbed the steers and jerked them forcefully, struggling to stabilize the flight. Somehow, she managed to put the machine into the vertical position and land, although it wasn't a soft touch down.

"We're there. Planet Earth of one of the other universes," she said and looked up to survey the place they had landed on. Her eyes widened, disbelieving the lush green of the nearby forest, the flowers covering a nearby meadow as a sapphire stream lazily snaked across it. "It looks so beautiful," Bulma whispered to herself.

"Not for long." The monster pressed the button opening the cockpit's lid and stood up, looking at the horizon. The corner of his lip turned upward. "I sense several strong power levels here. How exciting." Before Bulma could stop him, he grabbed Trunks and tossed him out of the vehicle.

The youth's limp body slammed into the grassy ground hard. He groaned and coughed blood, convulsing from pain.

A scream got caught up in Bulma's throat. Unable to make a sound, she rushed to the edge of the cockpit and quickly swung her legs over it. She jumped. As she landed, her knees gave in and she tore the skin off them, but she didn't care. Crawling on all fours, she got to her son's side.

Trunks opened his blue eyes and smiled seeing Bulma lean over him. His voice barely audible over the chirping of the birds, he uttered, "Mom. . ."

Bulma placed her finger on his lips. "Don't talk, Trunks. Just lay still, son, and rest."

The monster laughed. "Yes, boy, rest in peace!"

Suddenly, a beam of yellow energy shot out of his fingers, grazing Bulma's shoulder and hitting Trunks straight in his chest. The boy's blue eyes widened in surprise. He turned his gaze to his mother and opened his mouth to say his final words, but he didn't have enough time. Trunks gasped, letting out his final breath and his head limply lolled to the side.

"Trunks!" Bulma shrieked. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him, but he didn't respond. Hyperventilating, she placed her hands on the sides of his face and turned it, encountering Trunk's empty eyes.

He was gone. Her baby boy was dead.

"No, not Trunks," Bulma whimpered, her voice cracking. She shook her head, disbelieving that it was happening.

Behind her back, the monster snorted at her grief. Unfazed by Trunks' death, he stored Bulma's invention into a capsule and closed it in his calloused palm. "With the machine in my possession, I didn't need a leverage over you anymore."

Bulma stiffened. A _leverage over me? Is that what Trunks only ever meant to him?_ Slowly, she looked over her shoulder. In her azure eyes, grief swirled, mixing with growing rage. Her hand wandered to the pocket of her lab coat where she had her wrench. The metal felt cool and comforting against her fingertips.

She acted without thinking. Blinded by overwhelming anger, she jumped at the monster, swinging the wrench at his face as hard as she could. She yelled, putting all of her strength into the ferocious attack, but the wretched monster easily stopped it with just one finger.

Smirking at her, he grabbed the wrench and tore it out of Bulma's grasp like an adult takes an infant's toy. He hurled it into the sky, making the object disappear in the clouds. Probably, tossed with only a fraction of his strength, it flew all the way out of Earth's atmosphere. Chuckling at the unarmed Bulma, the monster grabbed her throat and lifted her off the ground. "Do you wish to join the bastard in the after world?"

Bulma clawed at his wrist as he was chocking the life out of her. She kicked, but her feet were dangling in the air. "Go ahead and kill me! After all you've done to me, I'm not afraid of it," she uttered while gasping for oxygen.

"And that's why I'll let you live." The monster flexed his fingers and watched Bulma crash into the ground at his feet. He crouched by her, observing her with his usual, mocking grin. "Live, Bulma, until you die of old age. Watch as the world crumbles around you. Live knowing you've unleashed a scourge on all of the universes." He tossed the capsule with Bulma's machine and caught it. "Thank you for the machine. I'll make a good use of it."

Bulma clawed at the soil, tearing clusters of grass out with her bare hands. Gritting her teeth and snarling, she glared at his back as he took off to the skies. "Damn you to hell, monster!" she yelled as she sat on her heels.

Her head lolled to the side and her gaze rested on her son who lay with a hole drilled in his chest. _My son. . . My beloved son. . ._ Bulma tossed her head back and let out a guttural scream, venting her pain.

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 **Author's note:**

 **I hope the depressing tone of the previous chapter hasn't scared you off.**

 **Don't be shy and comment. Tell me what you liked, what you hated and if you want the next chapter (if so, I'll see what I can do).**


	2. Chapter 2: Distractions

Disclaimer: Dragon Ball belongs to Akira Toriyama

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Timeline: The main story takes place somewhere around the events of Dragonball Super.

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 **Distractions**

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Vegeta turned up the gravity in his gravity chamber and waited for Bulma's robots to assault him. Anticipating an intense training session, he assumed a battle stance and kept an eye on his mechanic opponents. They came at him all at once, spinning, whirling about and shooting lasers. . . at a pace of that weakling Yamcha. Disappointed, Vegeta dodged the beams easily and blasted the robots flippantly.

"What the hell?" He furrowed his brows as he walked up to one of the destroyed machines. He crouched by it and poked it. The robot's lights flickered and a puff of odorous smoke signaled its final moment. _Looks like Bulma was slacking off this week_. Vegeta stood up. _Well, pushups will have to do for today_.

Loud banging on the door distracted him from his already ruined training. Feeling increasingly frustrated, he groaned and stalked toward the exit out of the gravity chamber. He flung the door open and glared at whoever decided to disturb his "me time."

"Dad!" Trunks exclaimed, his childish face beaming with unsettling enthusiasm.

As an experienced father, Vegeta sensed a disturbance. His son wanted something from him. Probably, it was something bothersome. Thus, he did what his saiyan instincts told him to; he slammed the door shut in front of stunned Trunks.

The banging continued, way louder than before, echoing across the gravity chamber. "DAD!"

 _He won't leave me alone_ , Vegeta realized _. Trunks inherited his annoying stubbornness after his mother_. Defeated, the Prince of All Saiyans creaked the door open. "What?" he spat harshly. "Can't you see I'm training, Trunks?"

"You always train." The boy narrowed his eyes at his father. Vegeta could have sworn that he gave him a condescending look. The dark expression on Trunks' face vanished, however, when he flashed a joyful smile and announced, "I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" Vegeta asked cautiously.

Trunks gasped, staring at his father slack-jawed. "For our trip to the amusement park! Last week, you promised that you'll take me today. . ." Trunks trailed off and cocked his head, giving Vegeta a highly suspicious look. "You've forgotten again, haven't you?"

Vegeta frowned. "I'm busy today. I'll take you to that blasted park next week," he promised and waited Trunks to leave so that he could continue his training.

"But you've been telling me this for the entire month!" the boy whined. He was loud like his mother.

"Why won't you go and play with Kakarot's brat, will you?" Vegeta suggested.

Trunks shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and mumbled, "Sure." Grumbling under his breath, he turned on his heel and marched away. He was stomping loudly to display his irritation.

Vegeta exhaled with relief and closed the door to his gravity chamber. He flexed his neck muscles and was about to go down to do the pushups when someone started knocking again. "What now?"

Suddenly, the artificial gravity disengaged and the door flew open, revealing a very pissed off Bulma. She looked positively livid and, in Vegeta's personal opinion, proportionally hot. She fixed her fiery glare on him and yelled, "Vegeta!" Stomping with her high heels, she stalked toward him and looked at him from above. "Trunks told me what happened. I thought that you were supposed to try and be a better father to him. You promised me that after that Majin Buu mishap!"

Vegeta blinked, confused that Bulma would throw such a hissy fit just because that blasted amusement park. "I took him to the beach last month," he reminded her. "And I let him train with me sometimes."

Bulma propped her hands on her hips and asked in a dangerously low voice. "And you're thinking that's enough to raise a child?"

Vegeta shrugged. "Isn't it?"

"No!" Bulma shrieked, her shrill voice echoing in the gravity chamber. "Geez, Vegeta, after Majin Buu, I hoped you'd change a little, become more caring toward Trunks. And what I get? The same, old you with your training obsession! I need you to become more involved in our family, more than ever."

Vegeta scoffed. "What do you want from me?"

Bulma said, "I wish you would spend time with Trunks without me nagging you to do it and chasing you out of your precious gravity chamber. Take more interest in what he's up to. Do you even know that his grades dropped recently?"

"And that's my problem how?" As long as Trunks was gradually getting stronger, Vegeta was content.

His wife gasped, briefly out of words. "You unbelievable asshole!" she coughed out, glaring daggers at him.

"You're bitchier than usual," Vegeta noticed. A roguish smirk flourished on his lips as he closed the distance between him and Bulma. "And I think I like it." He placed his palms on her curvaceous hips, gently tugging her to get closer, and leaned in for the kiss.

Bulma put her hand between her and Vegeta's lips, blocking his advances. "I'm not in the mood," she said unusually dryly. Taking advantage of her husband's stunned reaction, she wriggled out of his grasp and turned her back on him. She looked at him over her shoulder, coldly. "Better get your act together quickly, mister, or you'll be moving out of this planet," Bulma said, before leaving the gravity chamber. "And you call yourself the Prince of all Saiyans when you can't take care of even one, your own child."

Vegeta stood like a fool, barely believing what had just happened. He was having an unnerving case of déjà vu from nine years ago. _Did she just threaten to throw me out of the house? I thought we were over this already._

He tried to get back to the pushups, but he couldn't put his mind to it. Gritting his teeth, he threw a towel over his shoulder and stalked to the living room where he expected to find Bulma. She wasn't there, though. He found, however, her note resting on the coffee table. Vegeta picked the piece of paper and read it. _I took Trunks shopping. You can train all you want._

He narrowed his eyes. _It's a trap_ , he decided. She always sounds like that when she wants to maneuver him into doing the opposite thing. _What the hell does she want from me? I'm not going shopping!_ Growling, Vegeta crumpled the note in his hand and threw it over his shoulder. Feeling an urge to clear his head, he blasted off through an open window.

Seeing the West Cityscape ahead, he took a sharp turn, not wanting Bulma to see him. If she did, she'd shriek at him even more. There was a barren wasteland ahead, filled with deep canyons and boring rock formations. I _better steer clear off this one too. The green slug-man is probably camping out there_. Thus, Vegeta headed for the mountains that were covered with vegetation. He spotted a lonely rock in the middle of some meadow and landed on it.

He sat down with one leg stretched out, resting his arm on his knee, and stared into the distance. The place was desolate enough, with only insects buzzing about, but the sweet comfort of silence and peace wasn't meant for the saiyan prince today. Scowling, he looked up, feeling a familiar ki approach him.

"Anyone but him," he murmured under his breath, his frown turning into a grimace that looked as though Vegeta was in a physical pain.

Sailing through the sky was Kakarot, dressed like an Earth alteration of a country bumpkin. When he saw the other saiyan, he grinned like an idiot he was and landed. "Hi, Vegeta!"

"Kakarot." Vegeta narrowed his eyes at him. "Go away. I don't have patience for your foolishness right now."

Despite being told he wasn't welcome, Kakarot sat cross legged near Vegeta, much too close. He leaned in and asked curiously, "What happened?" When the saiyan prince scoffed and looked away, Kakarot cocked his head and guessed, "Is it Bulma?" He grinned triumphantly as Vegeta grimaced. "It is, I can tell by the look on your face. So, what have you done this time?"

"Why the hell would you assume that it's my fault?" Vegeta snapped at him.

"Isn't it?" Kakarot blinked innocently.

"No!" Vegeta yelled. "She's the one acting unreasonably!"

Kakarot shrugged. "Well, Chichi does it all the time."

"But your wife is a shrew," Vegeta reminded him. "Bulma has more common sense. Usually, she doesn't nag me about every single, insignificant thing." He paused, suddenly realizing what was just happening. "Am I really discussing my marriage with you?"

"Looks like it," Kakarot replied, clearly not seing anything off about the situation. "Bulma always used to have a pretty short fuse. Maybe you just need to take her hunt dragonballs or something like that."

Suddenly, something rustled in the bushes, spooking birds. The two most powerful beings on this planet turned their heads to see what was making the noise, half-curious. Vegeta expected a gangerrian frog, a canassan boar or whatever roamed forest of Earth to jump out. Instead, it was a girl.

Dressed in a white, knee-length nightgown, a ten-year old female emerged from between the bushes. She had scratches on her arms, legs and face. Leaves and little branches struck in her smooth, black hair. Her gaze wandered to the two men sitting on the rock. When her black eyes met Kakarot's, a bright smile lit up her face. Speaking of which. . . there was something eerily familiar about her.

"Chichi?" Kakarot paled as though he saw a ghost. "I swear, I haven't forgotten about the groceries! I'll buy those pears you wanted, I promise!" He leapt to his feet, fishing out a crumpled grocery list from the pocket of his jacket.

"Kakarot?" Slowly, Vegeta stood up, eying the girl cautiously. Actually, the child looked very similar to Kakarot's spouse. "Is it my imagination or does your shrew of a wife look younger than usually?"

"What do you mean?" Kakarot asked moronically.

Vegeta growled, annoyed by his idiocy. He pointed his finger at the child in the nightgown. "She looks ten, you idiot!"

"Oh, you're right," Kakarot mumbled unsurely, as if he had just realized it. "Who are you?" he asked the younger version of his wife casually.

The girl smiled angelically, with a hint of a death threat; her facial expressions were exactly like Chichi's. "What do you mean, Goku-sa? Don't you recognize your wife?"

Kakarot gulped, fidgeting. It was curious like his wife made him tremble. "Have you wished upon the dragon balls to make you younger? If so, you might have overdone it a bit, Chichi."

The ten-year old Chichi opened her mouth to retort when she spotted Vegeta who was standing behind Kakarot. Her black eyes widened and a gasp escaped her throat. Immediately, she scowled and clenched her fists. Growling like a feral animal, she dashed out, heading straight for the saiyan prince. With a battle yell on her lips, she punched him straight in his face. Her little fist connected with Vegeta's cheek, followed by the sound of the cracked bones. Her bones, of course. Crying out in pain, she jumped back, cradling her broken hand.

"Chichi? What are you doing? Have you hit your head?" Kakarot inquired.

Then, she attacked again, flinging her other fist at Vegeta. The saiyan prince stepped aside, but she was relentless in her wish to punch him. In the end, he slapped her lightly just to knock her out. Usually fighting strong opponents, he might have miscalculated his strength a little. The little slap made Chichi's hurt turn violently, accompanied with a crunching sound. Limp, she fell to the ground.

Vegeta gawked at her, laying with her neck twisted. _Shit!_

"Chichi?" Kakarot spoke up unsurely. He crouched by her side and tugged her shoulder as though he expected her to wake up. "Are you alright? Chichi!"

"We can always wish her back with dragon balls," Vegeta suggested.

Goku lifted his head, his face contorted in an expression of a righteous rage. "You've killed my wife, Vegeta!"

"You don't know that!" Vegeta exclaimed defensively. He nudged the little corpse with the tip of his boot. "Is this child _really_ your wife? Something is obviously off about this little hag. Besides, shouldn't your wife be waiting for you at your shack? How would she get here right after you? She can't fly."

Kakarot furrowed his brows thinking intensely. In the end he stood up, scooping the cadaver into his arms. "Watch her and don't move, Vegeta." He shoved the corpse to Vegeta, forcing him to grab it. "I'll be right back." He touched his fingers to his fingers and used his instant transmission.

 _Oh yeah, the instant transmission. ._ . Vegeta wrinkled his forehead, thinking in dismay, _did that idiot forget he could do that instead of flying over my solitude spot?_

Suddenly, Kakarot appeared out of blue right in front of Vegeta. "Kakarot!" The saiyan prince grimaced.

His rival stroke his chin thoughtfully, staring at the corpse in Vegeta's arms suspiciously. "Chichi is at home, very angry, but it's the same, old Chichi," he said quietly. "She scolded me for not bringing the grocery back."

Vegeta nodded and shook the cadaver of the black-haired girl. "I told you _this_ is not your wife."

Kakarot tugged at his incredibly messy hair. "If my Chichi is at home, who is this? She looks exactly like her when she was a little girl."

"Well," Vegeta smirked deviously. "How old can this girl be? Ten? Let's see. . . Where were you ten years ago?"

"Dead?" Kakarot answered unsurely.

"Yes, dead," Vegeta confirmed. "Meanwhile, your beautiful wife was widowed, surely lonely and. . ."

"Chichi would never do this!" Kakarot exclaimed with conviction. Although, there was a hint of panic in his eyes.

"Who knows?" Vegeta's torturous smirk grew as he watched the disress reflect on his rival's face.

"Now you're being mean, Vegeta," Kakarot muttered.

"The look on your face was worth it, though." Vegeta laughed. He looked down at the dead girl, he was holding, and said, "Bulma should take a look at this. Perhaps she and her father would figure out where this kid came from."

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 **Author's note:**

 **I hope the depressing tone of the previous chapter hasn't scared you off.**

 **Don't be shy and comment. Tell me what you liked, what you hated and if you want the next chapter (if so, I'll see what I can do).**


	3. Chapter 3: Clue

Disclaimer: Dragon Ball belongs to Akira Toriyama

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Yes! I managed to write another chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing the previous chapter. Please, enjoy this one as well.

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 **Chapter 3: Clue**

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To transport himself and Vegeta from the remote meadow, Kakarot used his instant transmission. He placed his hand on the saiyan prince's shoulder and got them to Bulma's living room.

Speaking of whom, the blue-haired scientist shrieked from fright when two people and one corpse appeared in front of her out of nowhere. She stumbled back and plopped onto the sofa. Her gaze quickly wandered to the cadaver in Vegeta's eyes. The girl's eyes were rolled back and wide open. Her tongue hung loosely from her mouth and she had her neck twisted unnaturally, making Bulma freak out even more.

"Who is that?" she pointed her shaking finger at the corpse and let out another eardrum-piercing scream, "Oh my god! Is she dead?"

"Obviously." Vegeta shrugged and started looking around for a place to dump the cadaver.

Bulma gulped, swallowing her panic. Her brows knit together and the look of fright turned into a grimace of anger. "And you thought that it was a good idea to bring a corpse into our living room? Sweet Kami, what if Trunks saw it? He could get a lifelong trauma!"

"He's a saiyan. It won't kill him," Vegeta rebutted calmly. "When I was his age, I've seen thousands of cadavers and I turned out just fine."

"Trunks isn't you, Vegeta," Bulma reminded him. "And 'fine' is relative."

 _What was that supposed to mean?_ Vegeta shrugged her comment on and focused on their son, just as she wanted. "You're coddling him too much," he said.

Bulma's cheeks started changing color from porcelain fair to crimson. If she were a saiyan woman, she'd surely blast Vegeta's head clean off. She opened her mouth and was about to spout a tirade when Kakarot cut in.

"Guys!" He positioned himself between the spouses and waved his hands calmingly. "Could we do something about the dead person, who looks like Chichi?"

"Oh, right." Bulma ran her fingers through her short, blue hair. She winced as she took a glance at the little Chichi and turned her head away quickly. "She looks so much like Chichi that it gives me creeps." Bulma looked at her husband, a mischievous smile playing on her full lips. "Hey, Vegeta, do you think that while Goku was dead, Chichi. . ."

"Vegeta made that joke already," Kakarot sighed, looking not amused.

"Damn it!" Bulma cursed. She seemed like she really wanted to be first to make the joke. "Anyway, I'll need to run some tests. Let's move her to my lab."

"I'm on it," Kakarot said and put his hand back on Vegeta's shoulder to use the instant transmission. When Bulma grabbed him, he transported them to another room.

Only that it wasn't a lab. Well, at least Bulma's father was there. The old man was sitting on a toilet, peacefully reading the newspaper. When he realized that he wasn't alone in the room, he lowered it and gawked at the people staring back at him. "Hey!"

"Oh. Wrong room," Kakarot laughed sheepishly and vanished. This time, he found the right location. "Here we are, in the lab."

Vegeta groaned, rolling his eyes. He stalked across the cluttered room, maneuvering between the messy work stations and equipment. He kicked the door to the adjoining, refrigerated section where the dissection table stood. Unceremoniously, he dumped the body onto it and wiped his hands in his pants, wishing he was wearing his gloves right now.

Bulma sent him a scolding glance and prepared herself. Before leaning over the cadaver, she put a face mask and latex gloves on. She lingered there barely several seconds when she gagged. Quickly, she pressed her hand to her covered mouth and whirled around, pale. "I can't take the smell!" Hastily, she ran out of the room.

Vegeta arched his eyebrow. _That was quick_. He approached the body and leaned over it a bit, taking a whiff. "The cadaver isn't rotting yet. It's still perfectly fresh and edible."

"Vegeta!" Bulma returned.

The saiyan prince huffed, crossing his arms on his chest. "What!"

Bulma shook her head in dismay. "Be more sensitive, for crying out loud!" She started grumbling something to herself as she took a syringe and took some blood from the girl's corpse.

While the two saiyans watched her, she carefully placed the blood sample into some primitive machine and stared at a computer screen expectantly. Although she seemed composed, Vegeta noticed that she kept tapping with her left foot. She always did that whenever she couldn't wait for something. Eventually, the data came up and Bulma narrowed her eyes, skimming over the file.

"How odd," she muttered. "We can throw the infidelity theory out the window."

Kakarot breathed out in relief, wiping cold sweat off his brow. "Oh, thank Kami."

"This person has Chichi's DNA," Bulma said slowly.

Kakarot's dark eyes widened in shock and terror as he gasped. "But you said. . ."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "I know what I said, Goku," she told him. Turning in her chair so that she could see the dead body. "This girl has Chichi's DNA, but none of a father's. Everything indicates that she _is_ Chichi."

"But Chichi was at home, cleaning the porch," Kakarot uttered, confused beyond belief.

"Well, that doesn't change the fact that a copy of her is currently laying on the table right before our noses," Bulma noted.

Vegeta's forehead wrinkled as he linked the facts much more easily than Kakarot did. "It's a clone," he deduced.

"Yep." Bulma snapped her fingers. She rose from her chair and put her arms around her as though a chill ran through her body. Her high heels clicked when she walked up to the dissection table to take the cadaver. Unlike before, she didn't look so scared anymore. She observed the child's body with a scientific curiosity, the same way she would examine an android. "Cloning people is against the law. Whoever made this clone, is up to no good."

Immediately, Kakarot's head perked up. The all too familiar gleam was back in his eyes; it was his insufferable hero mode. "We have to stop them!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, lifting his clenched fist.

Bulma tucked a stra strand of her blue hair behind her ear. One of her eyebrow rode up and the corners of her mouth lifted in a quizzical smile. "Good luck with that, Goku. If you need anything, give me a call."

"Thanks, Bulma." Kakarot nodded and turned to the saiyan prince. "Vegeta, let's investigate."

Before Vegeta had the chance to respond to the invitation, Bulma stepped in. Sharply, she shook her head. "My husband is not going anywhere!" she hissed to Kakarot, making him take a step back with just one glare. Then, she shifted that fearsome stare onto her husband. "Have you forgotten about taking Trunks to the amusement park _again,_ Vegeta?"

Speaking of the devil, Trunk's voice sounded in the lab adjoining the morgue. "Mom!" The boy cheerfully barged into the cool room. The smile slithered away from his face the moment his gaze rested on the dead body sprawled on the dissection table. His blue eyes widened as he pointed his finger at it. "Is that a cor-"

Vegeta didn't have to look Bulma's way to know that she have him a look that would surpass Frieza's glare. Not eager to hear her bitching again, the saiyan prince carried out a preventive strike. He leapt to his son and grabbed him by the collar. "And we're off to the amusement park." Vegeta dragged the boy out of the laboratory. "Let's go."

Slightly confused, Trunks followed his father outside onto the Capsule Corp compound's lawn from where they took to the air. Vegeta headed toward the mountains.

Trunks looked back toward the West City, furrowing his brows. "Dad, the amusement is that way." He pointed in the direction opposite to where they were flying.

"We're not going to that crappy amusement park, son. I have something far more entertaining in mind," Vegeta told him. As soon as he saw the familiar meadow, he headed down.

Trunks landed next to his father. He looked around, the look of doubts painting all over his face. "It's a field. There's nothing here." He yawned.

Vegeta ignored the boy's complaining and carefully walked toward the spot where he last saw the child version of Kakarot's wife alive. He knelt by the trampled grass and followed the faint trace of small feet in the vegetation. Back when he worked for Frieza, he had to track runaways sometimes _. Damn, I miss manhunts._

Bored out of his mind, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, Trunks trailed after Vegeta. He was blissfully quiet for a while, but it was a fleeting moment. "Does this trip has something to do with the dead person in mom's lab?" he asked, and received an affirmative grunt from Vegeta. The boy furrowed his brows, thinking about something intensely. Then, he fired a question at his father, "Dad, have you seen many dead people?"

"More than you can imagine," Vegeta muttered focusing on following the trail of the little feet deeper into the mountains.

Suddenly, Trunks caught him off guard, asking an even less comfortable question. "Dad, just how many people have you killed?"

Vegeta flinched, a bit startled by the question. He opened his mouth and he would have answered his son, but he seamed his lips shut before any words left his mouth. Probably, Bulma would give him hell. She tended to be rather squeamish. He quickly changed the topic. "The tracks lead into the canyon," he said and quickened his pace, following the little footprints.

"Dad?" Trunks nagged him.

"Shh!" Vegeta lifted his hand, gesturing his son to be still and quiet for a change. He felt a very familiar Ki. . . He grimaced, knowing what was coming.

"Hi, guys!" None other than Kakarot popped from behind the bushes. _Was he hiding there the entire time?_ In his orange gi, he stuck out like a sore thumb against the green vegetation.

"And there goes stealth," Vegeta muttered. "Weren't you supposed to do the grocery shopping for the hag that lives in your house?"

Goku's eyes widened and his jaw went slack from shock. "That wasn't very nice, Vegeta."

"Neither is interrupting my investigation," Vegeta rebutted.

Then, more unwelcome guests arrived, completely ruining Vegeta's original plan to have only one person to tag along. From the skied, swooped Kakarot's sons. His oldest was dressed in that ridiculous geeky outfit, with button up cardigan and glasses. Even though Vegeta wasn't an expert in Eath's fashion, he could tell where someone was looking like a loser.

"Dad!" exclaimed Kakarot's sons in unison, sending him twin, scolding looks.

Kakarot flashed them a silly grin. "Oh, hi, boys!"

"Just great." Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Why won't we invite everyone we know?"

Gohan bit his lower lip as he stared at his father, looking a bit like Nappa when he was telling Vegeta that their planet blew up. "Dad, mom is getting impatient," Gohan said quietly. "She sent us to make sure you won't forget to buy the pears."

Goten dashed past his brother and father, heading for his best friend. "Hi, Trunks. What are you up to?"

Trunks shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing fun. Just creeping around with my dad. Hiking, I guess. . ." He trailed off, deep in thought. "I feel that something is missing, though."

"Is it because every time we go on a trip with your dad, we get attacked?" Goten asked.

"Not every time!" Trunks exclaimed defensively. "Just mostly."

Vegeta's eyebrow started to twitch uncontrollably. All the bickering was getting on his nerves. "Silence! All of you" he yelled, finally bringing about some much needed silence. "How about you go home, Kakarot?"

Goten looked at his dad, curious what he would say to that. He took a step back to lean against a vertical stone wall of the canyon. Just as made a step, a crunching noise echoed across the vicinity. He looked down, staring with his eyes wide open at a net of cracks developing under his feet. Suddenly, the ground crumbled, caving in. He let out a startled yelp and fell, vanishing in a hole in the ground.

"Goten!" Kakarot cried out, rushing to peek into the hole.

All four saiyans gathered around the hole, bent over and squinting their eyes to discern where was the youngest of them.

"Ouch! I think I hit my fanny," came the voice from the darkness.

"Hang on there, son!" Kakarot exclaimed, jumping into the hole. "I'm coming for you!"

Gohan and Trunks followed. As he was the last one left behind and his son was already there, Vegeta tagged along. He took a step, crossing his arms on his chest. Nonchalantly, he landed on something that made a surprised yelp. It sounded like Gohan. Vegeta skipped off to the damp, muddy ground. He narrowed his eyes as he surveyed his surroundings. The reminding saiyans were fussing over Goten, quite oblivious to the place they found themselves in.

It was a net of tunnels stretching under the canyon. The air was unpleasantly damp and stale, but it had plenty of oxygen. The passage wasn't flooded by the river snaking at the bottom of the canyon either. Actually, the place seemed suspiciously man-made, with faint industrial lights flickering in the distance.

Vegeta furrowed his dark brows. "I've seen plenty of evil lairs to know when I'm one."

Kakarot looked over his shoulders and gawked around. He nodded. "Yep, it's clearly an evil lair."

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 **Author's note:**

 **Thanks for reading! Have you liked the story so far? What do you think will happen?**

 **Don't be shy and leave a comment. ;-)**


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